Perseus
by Ultrimonex
Summary: This is the first book of the Inheritance cycle, with Percy Jackson characters
1. Discovery

**Chapter 1 - Discovery**

Percy knelt in a bed of trampled reed grass and scanned the tracks with a practiced eye. The prints told him that the deer had been in the meadow only a half-hour before. Soon they would bed down. His target, a small doe with a pronounced limp in her left forefoot, was still with the herd. He was amazed she had made it so far without a wolf or bear catching her.

The sky was clear and dark, and a slight breeze stirred the air. A silvery cloud drifted over the mountains that surrounded him, its edges glowing with ruddy light cast from the harvest moon cradled between two peaks. Streams flowed down the mountains from stolid glaciers and glistening snowpacks. A brooding mist crept along the valley's floor, almost thick enough to obscure his feet.

Percy was fifteen, less than a year from manhood. Dark eye- brows rested above his intense brown eyes. His clothes were worn from work. A hunting knife with a bone handle was sheathed at his belt, and a buckskin tube protected his yew bow from the mist. He carried a wood-frame pack.

The deer had led him deep into the Spine, a range of untamed mountains that extended up and down the land of Alagaësia. Strange tales and men often came from those mountains, usually boding ill. Despite that, Percy did not fear the Spine—he was the only hunter near Carvahall who dared track game deep into its craggy recesses.

It was the third night of the hunt, and his food was half gone. If he did not fell the doe, he would be forced to return home empty-handed. His family needed the meat for the rapidly approaching winter and could not afford to buy it in Carvahall.

Percy stood with quiet assurance in the dusky moonlight, then strode into the forest toward a glen where he was sure the deer would rest. The trees blocked the sky from view and cast feathery shadows on the ground. He looked at the tracks only occasionally; he knew the way.

At the glen, he strung his bow with a sure touch, then drew three arrows and nocked one, holding the others in his left hand. The moonlight revealed twenty or so motionless lumps where the deer lay in the grass. The doe he wanted was at the edge of the herd, her left foreleg stretched out awkwardly.

Percy slowly crept closer, keeping the bow ready. All his work of the past three days had led to this moment. He took a last steady- ing breath and—an explosion shattered the night.

The herd bolted. Percy lunged forward, racing through the grass as a fiery wind surged past his cheek. He slid to a stop and loosed an arrow at the bounding doe. It missed by a finger's breadth and hissed into darkness. He cursed and spun around, instinctively nocking another arrow.

Behind him, where the deer had been, smouldered a large circle of grass and trees. Many of the pines stood bare of their needles. The grass outside the charring was flattened. A wisp of smoke curled in the air, carrying a burnt smell. In the centre of the blast radius lay a polished blue stone. Mist snaked across the scorched area and swirled insubstantial tendrils over the stone.

Percy watched for danger for several long minutes, but the only thing that moved was the mist. Cautiously, he released the tension from his bow and moved forward. Moonlight cast him in pale shadow as he stopped before the stone. He nudged it with an arrow, then jumped back. Nothing happened, so he warily picked it up.

Nature had never polished a stone as smooth as this one. Its flaw- less surface was dark blue, except for thin veins of white that spiderwebbed across it. The stone was cool and frictionless under his fingers, like hardened silk. Oval and about a foot long, it weighed several pounds, though it felt lighter than it should have. Percy found the stone both beautiful and frightening. Where did

it come from? Does it have a purpose? Then a more disturbing thought came to him: Was it sent here by accident, or am I meant to have it? If he had learned anything from the old stories, it was to treat magic, and those who used it, with great caution.

But what should I do with the stone? It would be tiresome to carry, and there was a chance it was dangerous. It might be better to leave it behind. A flicker of indecision ran through him, and he almost dropped it, but something stayed his hand. At the very least, it might pay for some food, he decided with a shrug, tucking the stone into his pack.

The glen was too exposed to make a safe camp, so he slipped back into the forest and spread his bedroll beneath the upturned roots of a fallen tree. After a cold dinner of bread and cheese, he wrapped himself in blankets and fell asleep, pondering what had occurred.


	2. Balances Valley

**Chapter 2 - Palancar Valley**

The sun rose the next morning with a glorious conflagration of pink and yellow. The air was fresh, sweet, and very cold. Ice edged the streams, and small pools were completely frozen over. After a breakfast of porridge, Percy returned to the glen and examined the charred area. The morning light revealed no new details, so he started for home.

The rough game trail was faintly worn and, in places, non- existent. Because it had been forged by animals, it often back- tracked and took long detours. Yet for all its flaws, it was still the fastest way out of the mountains.

The Spine was one of the only places that King Kronos could not call his own. Stories were still told about how half his army dis- appeared after marching into its ancient forest. A cloud of mis- fortune and bad luck seemed to hang over it. Though the trees grew tall and the sky shone brightly, few people could stay in the Spine for long without suffering an accident. Percy was one of those few—not through any particular gift, it seemed to him, but because of persistent vigilance and sharp reflexes. He had hiked in the mountains for years, yet he was still wary of them. Every time he thought they had surrendered their secrets, something happened to upset his understanding of them—like the stone's appearance.

He kept up a brisk pace, and the leagues steadily disappeared. In late evening he arrived at the edge of a precipitous ravine. The Anora River rushed by far below, heading to Palancar Valley. Gorged with hundreds of tiny streams, the river was a brute force, battling against the rocks and boulders that barred its way. A low rumble filled the air.

He camped in a thicket near the ravine and watched the moon- rise before going to bed.

It grew colder over the next day and a half. Percy traveled quickly and saw little of the wary wildlife. A bit past noon, he heard the Igualda Falls blanketing everything with the dull sound of a thou- sand splashes. The trail led him onto a moist slate outcropping, which the river sped past, flinging itself into empty air and down mossy cliffs.

Before him lay Palancar Valley, exposed like an unrolled map. The base of the Igualda Falls, more than a half-mile below, was the northernmost point of the valley. A little ways from the falls was Carvahall, a cluster of brown buildings. White smoke rose from the chimneys, defiant of the wilderness around it. At this height, farms were small square patches no bigger than the end of his finger. The land around them was tan or sandy, where dead grass swayed in the wind. The Anora River wound from the falls toward Palancar's southern end, reflecting great strips of sunlight. Far in the distance it flowed past the village Therinsford and the lonely mountain Utgard. Beyond that, he knew only that it turned north and ran to the sea.

After a pause, Percy left the outcropping and started down the trail, grimacing at the descent. When he arrived at the bottom, soft dusk was creeping over everything, blurring colours and shapes into gray masses. Carvahall's lights shimmered nearby in the twilight; the houses cast long shadows. Aside from Therinsford, Carvahall was the only village in Palancar Valley. The settlement was secluded and surrounded by harsh, beautiful land. Few traveled here except merchants and trappers.

The village was composed of stout log buildings with low roofs— some thatched, others shingled. Smoke billowed from the chimneys, giving the air a woody smell. The buildings had wide porches where people gathered to talk and conduct business. Occasionally a window brightened as a candle or lamp was lit. Percy heard men talking loudly in the evening air while wives scurried to fetch their husbands, scolding them for being late.

Percy wove his way between the houses to the butcher's shop, a broad, thick-beamed building. Overhead, the chimney belched black smoke.

He pushed the door open. The spacious room was warm and well lit by a fire snapping in a stone fireplace. A bare counter stretched across the far side of the room. The floor was strewn with loose straw. Everything was scrupulously clean, as if the owner spent his leisure time digging in obscure crannies for minuscule pieces of filth. Behind the counter stood the butcher Gabe Ugliano. A small man, he wore a cotton shirt and a long, bloodstained smock. An impressive array of knives swung from his belt. He had a sallow, pockmarked face, and his black eyes were suspicious. He polished the counter with a ragged cloth.

Gabe's mouth twisted as Percy entered. "Well, the mighty hunter joins the rest of us mortals. How many did you bag this time?" "None," was Percy's curt reply. He had never liked Gabe. The butcher always treated him with disdain, as if he were something unclean. A widower, Gabe seemed to care for only one person—his daughter, Piper, on whom he doted.

"I'm amazed," said Gabe with affected astonishment. He turned

his back on Percy to scrape something off the wall. "And that's your reason for coming here?"

"Yes," admitted Percy uncomfortably.

"If that's the case, let's see your money." Gabe tapped his fingers when Percy shifted his feet and remained silent. "Come on— either you have it or you don't. Which is it?"

"I don't really have any money, but I do—"

"What, no money?" the butcher cut him off sharply. "And you expect to buy meat! Are the other merchants giving away their wares? Should I just hand you the goods without charge? Besides," he said abruptly, "it's late. Come back tomorrow with money. I'm closed for the day."

Percy glared at him. "I can't wait until tomorrow, Gabe. It'll be worth your while, though; I found something to pay you with." He pulled out the stone with a flourish and set it gently on the scarred counter, where it gleamed with light from the dancing flames.

"Stole it is more likely," muttered Gabe, leaning forward with an interested expression.

Ignoring the comment, Percy asked, "Will this be enough?"

Gabe picked up the stone and gauged its weight speculatively. He ran his hands over its smoothness and inspected the white veins. With a calculating look, he set it down. "It's pretty, but how much is it worth?"

"I don't know," admitted Percy, "but no one would have gone to the trouble of shaping it unless it had some value."

"Obviously," said Gabe with exaggerated patience. "But how much value? Since you don't know, I suggest that you find a trader who does, or take my offer of three crowns."

"That's a miser's bargain! It must be worth at least ten times that," protested Percy. Three crowns would not even buy enough meat to last a week.

Gabe shrugged. "If you don't like my offer, wait until the traders arrive. Either way, I'm tired of this conversation."

The traders were a nomadic group of merchants and entertainers who visited Carvahall every spring and winter. They bought what- ever excess the villagers and local farmers had managed to grow or make, and sold what they needed to live through another year: seeds, animals, fabric, and supplies like salt and sugar.

But Percy did not want to wait until they arrived; it could be a while, and his family needed the meat now. "Fine, I accept," he snapped.

"Good, I'll get you the meat. Not that it matters, but where did you find this?"

"Two nights ago in the Spine—"

"Get out!" demanded Gabe, pushing the stone away. He stomped furiously to the end of the counter and started scrubbing old bloodstains off a knife.

"Why?" asked Percy. He drew the stone closer, as if to protect it from Gabe's wrath.

"I won't deal with anything you bring back from those damned mountains! Take your sorcerer's stone elsewhere." Gabe's hand suddenly slipped and he cut a finger on the knife, but he seemed not to notice. He continued to scrub, staining the blade with fresh blood.

"You refuse to sell to me!"

"Yes! Unless you pay with coins," Gabe growled, and hefted the knife, sidling away. "Go, before I make you!"

The door behind them slammed open. Percy whirled around, ready for more trouble. In stomped Horst, a hulking man. Gabe's daughter, Piper—a tall girl of sixteen—trailed behind him with a determined expression. Percy was surprised to see her; she usually absented herself from any arguments involving her father. Gabe glanced at them warily, then started to accuse Percy. "He won't—"

"Quiet," announced Horst in a rumbling voice, cracking his knuckles at the same time. He was Carvahall's smith, as his thick neck and scarred leather apron attested. His powerful arms were bare to the elbow; a great expanse of hairy muscular chest was visible through the top of his shirt. A black beard, carelessly trimmed, roiled and knotted like his jaw muscles. "Gabe, what have you done now?"

"Nothing." He gave Percy a murderous gaze, then spat, "This . . . boy came in here and started badgering me. I asked him to leave, but he won't budge. I even threatened him and he still ignored me!" Gabe seemed to shrink as he looked at Horst.

"Is this true?" demanded the smith.

"No!" replied Percy. "I offered this stone as payment for some meat, and he accepted it. When I told him that I'd found it in the Spine, he refused to even touch it. What difference does it make where it came from?"

Horst looked at the stone curiously, then returned his attention to the butcher. "Why won't you trade with him, Gabe? I've no love for the Spine myself, but if it's a question of the stone's worth, I'll back it with my own money."

The question hung in the air for a moment. Then Gabe licked his lips and said, "This is my own store. I can do whatever I want." Piper stepped out from behind Horst and tossed back her auburn hair like a spray of molten copper. "Father, Percy is willing to pay. Give him the meat, and then we can have supper."

Gabe's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Go back to the house; this is none of your business. . . . I said go!" Piper's face hardened, then

she marched out of the room with a stiff back.

Percy watched with disapproval but dared not interfere. Horst

tugged at his beard before saying reproachfully, "Fine, you can deal with me. What were you going to get, Percy?" His voice reverberated through the room.

"As much as I could."

Horst pulled out a purse and counted out a pile of coins. "Give me your best roasts and steaks. Make sure that it's enough to fill Percy's pack." The butcher hesitated, his gaze darting between Horst and Percy. "Not selling to me would be a very bad idea," stated Horst.

Glowering venomously, Gabe slipped into the back room. A frenzy of chopping, wrapping, and low cursing reached them. After several uncomfortable minutes, he returned with an armful of wrapped meat. His face was expressionless as he accepted Horst's money, then proceeded to clean his knife, pretending that they were not there.

Horst scooped up the meat and walked outside. Percy hurried behind him, carrying his pack and the stone. The crisp night air rolled over their faces, refreshing after the stuffy shop.

"Thank you, Horst. Uncle Zeus will be pleased."

Horst laughed quietly. "Don't thank me. I've wanted to do that for a long time. Gabe's a vicious troublemaker; it does him good to be humbled. Piper heard what was happening and ran to fetch me. Good thing I came—the two of you were almost at blows. Unfortunately, I doubt he'll serve you or any of your family the next time you go in there, even if you do have coins."

"Why did he explode like that? We've never been friendly, but he's always taken our money. And I've never seen him treat Piper that way," said Percy, opening the top of the pack.

Horst shrugged. "Ask your uncle. He knows more about it than I do."

Percy stuffed the meat into his pack. "Well, now I have one more reason to hurry home . . . to solve this mystery. Here, this is rightfully yours." He proffered the stone.

Horst chuckled. "No, you keep your strange rock. As for payment, Albriech plans to leave for Feinster next spring. He wants to become a master smith, and I'm going to need an assistant. You can come and work off the debt on your spare days."

Percy bowed slightly, delighted. Horst had two sons, Albriech and Baldor, both of whom worked in his forge. Taking one's place was a generous offer. "Again, thank you! I look forward to working with you." He was glad that there was a way for him to pay Horst. His uncle would never accept charity. Then Percy remembered what his cousin had told him before he had left on the hunt. "Jason wanted me to give Piper a message, but since I can't, can you get it to her?"

"Of course."

"He wants her to know that he'll come into town as soon as the merchants arrive and that he will see her then."

"That all?"

Percy was slightly embarrassed. "No, he also wants her to know that she is the most beautiful girl he has ever seen and that he thinks of nothing else."

Horst's face broke into a broad grin, and he winked at Percy. "Getting serious, isn't he?"

"Yes, sir," Percy answered with a quick smile. "Could you also give her my thanks? It was nice of her to stand up to her father for me. I hope that she isn't punished because of it. Jason would be furious if I got her into trouble."

"I wouldn't worry about it. Gabe doesn't know that she called me, so I doubt he'll be too hard on her. Before you go, will you sup with us?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't. Zeus is expecting me," said Percy, tying off the top of the pack. He hoisted it onto his back and started down the road, raising his hand in farewell.

The meat slowed him down, but he was eager to be home, and renewed vigour filled his steps. The village ended abruptly, and he left its warm lights behind. The pearlescent moon peeked over the mountains, bathing the land in a ghostly reflection of daylight. Everything looked bleached and flat.

Near the end of his journey, he turned off the road, which continued south. A simple path led straight through waist-high grass and up a knoll, almost hidden by the shadows of protective elm trees. He crested the hill and saw a gentle light shining from his home.

The house had a shingled roof and a brick chimney. Eaves hung over the whitewashed walls, shadowing the ground below. One side of the enclosed porch was filled with split wood, ready for the fire. A jumble of farm tools cluttered the other side.

The house had been abandoned for half a century when they moved in after Zeus' wife, Hera, died. It was ten miles from Carvahall, farther than anyone else's. People considered the distance dangerous because the family could not rely on help from the village in times of trouble, but Percy's uncle would not listen.

A hundred feet from the house, in a dull-coloured barn, lived two horses—Birka and Brugh—with chickens and a cow. Sometimes there was also a pig, but they had been unable to afford one this year. A wagon sat wedged between the stalls. On the edge of their fields, a thick line of trees traced along the Anora River.

He saw a light move behind a window as he wearily reached the porch. "Uncle, it's Percy. Let me in." A small shutter slid back for a second, then the door swung inward.

Zeus stood with his hand on the door. His worn clothes hung on him like rags on a stick frame. A lean, hungry face with intense eyes gazed out from under graying hair. He looked like a man who had been partly mummified before it was discovered that he was still alive. "Jason's sleeping," was his answer to Percy's inquiring glance.

A lantern flickered on a wood table so old that the grain stood up in tiny ridges like a giant fingerprint. Near a woodstove were rows of cooking utensils tacked onto the wall with homemade nails. A second door opened to the rest of the house. The floor was made of boards polished smooth by years of tramping feet.

Percy pulled off his pack and took out the meat. "What's this? Did you buy meat? Where did you get the money?" asked his uncle harshly as he saw the wrapped packages.

Percy took a breath before answering. "No, Horst bought it for us."

"You let him pay for it? I told you before, I won't beg for our food. If we can't feed ourselves, we might as well move into town. Before you can turn around twice, they'll be sending us used clothes and asking if we'll be able to get through the winter." Zeus' face paled with anger.

"I didn't accept charity," snapped Percy. "Horst agreed to let me work off the debt this spring. He needs someone to help him because Albriech is going away."

"And where will you get the time to work for him? Are you going to ignore all the things that need to be done here?" asked Zeus, forcing his voice down.

Percy hung his bow and quiver on hooks beside the front door. "I don't know how I'll do it," he said irritably. "Besides, I found something that could be worth some money." He set the stone on the table.

Zeus bowed over it: the hungry look on his face became ravenous, and his fingers moved with a strange twitch. "You found this in the Spine?

"Yes," said Percy. He explained what had happened. "And to make matters worse, I lost my best arrow. I'll have to make more before long." They stared at the stone in the near darkness.

"How was the weather?" asked his uncle, lifting the stone. His hands tightened around it like he was afraid it would suddenly disappear.

"Cold," was Percy's reply. "It didn't snow, but it froze each night."

Zeus looked worried by the news. "Tomorrow you'll have to help Jason finish harvesting the barley. If we can get the squash picked, too, the frost won't bother us." He passed the stone to Percy. "Here, keep it. When the traders come, we'll find out what it's worth. Selling it is probably the best thing to do. The less we're involved with magic, the better. . . . Why did Horst pay for the meat?"

It took only a moment for Percy to explain his argument with Gabe. "I just don't understand what angered him so."

Zeus shrugged. "Gabe's wife, Ismira, went over the Igualda Falls a year before you were brought here. He hasn't been near the Spine since, nor had anything to do with it. But that's no reason to refuse payment. I think he wanted to give you trouble."

Percy swayed blearily and said, "It's good to be back." Zeus' eyes softened, and he nodded. Percy stumbled to his room, pushed the stone under his bed, then fell onto the mattress. Home. For the first time since before the hunt, he relaxed completely as sleep overtook him.


End file.
